Personal Problems
by Ai Chiyo
Summary: No one is ever the same after the Hunger Games, but two of them and a war later? Not many can stay standing after all of that. Katniss doesn't want too, but there's a problem with that, someone won't let her go... AU. Post Mockingjay. Mature content. Very angsty. Hayniss.
1. Gray Seam Eyes & Broken Bodies

_Personal Problems_

_Gray Seam Eyes & Broken Bodies_

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_Disclaimer; I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy, if I did we all know who Katniss would've ended up with and it most certainly would not be Peeta Mellark, but I don't and life goes on~ Enjoy the fan fiction!_

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**A/N: Okay, so this is literally my **_**first**_** Hunger Games fan fiction and I'm writing it for LankySundown, who, in my opinion, is the best Hayniss writer on this site! I can only hope to be even remotely as good as she is~**

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Happily ever after doesn't happen for people like me with gray seam eyes and broken bodies. I've won against the Capitol, set the Districts free, killed many, and permanently driven away the one person who I needed for my own selfish reasons. I can't be strong for anyone anymore. In the end who really won?

The Capitol wanted to destroy me for something I didn't even mean to start and I wanted to defy the Capitol to save the boy with the bread who, even in death, I can't stop owing. With no family, no Peeta, no Gale, you tell me who won. Because I know I didn't. I might've accomplished many things, but it's because of these accomplishments that I'm so empty and broken.

They destroyed me with little effort and yet here I am, in this house that I should've shared with my mother and Prim, maybe even Peeta. It will never be the same here, I know that, the only reason I came back was because I knew I could deteriorate without worrying anyone. No one would care if I simply faded out of history now. I've served my purpose and I don't even want any credit, I just want my life to snuff out quickly, but there's one problem with that. Someone followed me out here and regularly barges in to force some bland food down my throat and into the shower. He was my mentor, but now he's just my personal problem.

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**A/N: So that's the prologue~ I have another chapter that's going to be posted too, but it would really mean a lot to me if you guys reviewed telling me what you think! I really want to get these two right.**


	2. Small Victories

_Personal Problems_

_Small Victories_

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_Disclaimer; I still don't own the Hunger Games, but I wish!_

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I was curled into myself on the couch finally thinking Haymitch had given up on me just as everyone else had. I smiled idly at the thought. Maybe I'd get my wish after all. It wasn't so much to ask of this world. I'd done more than enough for them; couldn't they do me this one little thing?

I sighed softly huddling into the little warmth my torso provided when my body was folded in half. It was a soft warmth that I could feel slowly draining from my weakened body. I'd been healed the best I could while in the Capitol, but all of it went to waste as soon as I reached District 12. I didn't do more than that of which Haymitch forced upon me. I didn't feel the need too. I don't _want_ too.

I let my eyes slip closed. My lids were tired and heavy. But my mind wouldn't give me any rest. It was in pure chaos and so I simply lie there. My breathing even and my mind painfully active. I was reliving everything as I often did in moments like these. Every scar that should've been there stung. My whole body felt like it was on fire. I live in my own personal hell. I refuse to self-medicate. I'd rather die and I'm so close…

My door hit the wall with a sickening crack, but I was too tortured and weak to even care. I didn't even bother to open my eyes. I saw no need to. It was just Haymitch, everyone else had long given up on me. The phone that once rang off the hook slowly died off and now I barely even remember I have such a thing. My TV has long since been muted only the colors flashing into my numbed mind. The house, that in another life might've been spotless, looked a lot like Haymitch's. It reeked of body odor and soured food. The counters were cluttered and stained with various substances. It was a total mess, just like me, just like Haymitch…

I was vaguely aware of his hardened stare. I choose to ignore him like I usually do. I know he probably thinks I'm asleep which he figures is some form of improvement, but I haven't slept in days. My body and mind are in constant pain. I have no way to relieve it so I just deal with it the best I can.

I feel a dip where my frail and sad excuse of a body doesn't reside. I limply roll into him, it takes too much effort to stay in one place, I simply don't weigh enough anymore. He sighs heavily, for what reason I have no idea. I've told him many times to just give up on me and let me die, but he always has that glint in his eyes. I can't describe it or pinpoint a certain emotion, but whatever it is he always comes back swinging harder and more motivated. I don't know what compels him to bother with a waste of space like me, but it really is troublesome, though I've given up on arguing. I don't think I could anymore. I haven't much a voice or the will.

I feel him shift moving me with him. My legs are curled into his right side and my arms, of which cradle my head, are brushing into his other side. I smell the alcohol on him, it's turned into a certain air of cologne for him, without it I'd question if I were hallucinating or not, but this smell proves he's real. Nothing I can quite conger in my imagination smells like it. So I know it's real when he gingerly touches my hair his hands shaking as he does so. But I begin to question myself again when I feel wet droplets plopping onto my waxy face.

Is he crying or am I crazy? The latter seems to be the truth at the moment. Why would he bother enough to cry over me? I'm nothing special. A tool used, but everyone's done with me, so why are you sticking around…? A soft sigh escaped me and I curled into him. He didn't seem to question my actions though. He probably chalked it up to sleeping.

He seemed content to stroke my hair and for some reason I found myself calming down. The pain in my body lessened slowly until I felt virtually nothing at all. My mind slowed at the same pace. I was rather enjoying the feel of his fingers gingerly working through the greasy knots and tangles. My scalp tingled and my body once ridged with pain relaxed. It was becoming increasingly harder and harder to hang onto the fringes of reality. When it finally became too much for my feeble mind to handle I let go. He'd won again; my personal problem would live to see me barely function through a few more weeks.


	3. Constantly Changing

_Personal Problems_

_Constantly Changing…_

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_Disclaimer; I, of course, do not own The Hunger Games, but I'm still dreaming about it!_

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I faded in and out of sleep noting silently that Haymitch was still there. Why was he still there…?

It makes no sense… Crying over me… Staying with me while I sleep… This isn't my mentor, the man that I connected with so easily before, he's different, but what's changed?

Even in my sleep I wracked my brain for the answer. He plagued my silent dreams. They never had sound anymore, not since the TV was muted so long ago. It was like those silent movies I once read about; apparently they were an acquired taste back then. I much preferred my dreams to be this way. They somehow hurt a little less when I couldn't hear the calls of the Mockingjays or the sound of Prim's voice. This way it was like flashes of my life, kind of the way I imagine it is to die…

My mind keeps drawing back to Haymitch in every situation; everything comes back to the man who was my mentor, but why…?

It's an answer I don't have. I don't have the answers to any of my questions involving this man, except for maybe why he drinks so much, I can see why now. It's ever present in both of our lives, just like it is for all of the remaining victors.

I sigh softly slowly coming back to reality. It was around noon when I fell asleep and I can tell the full moon has risen from where I lay on my couch. It shines past the skin of my lids and leaves awkward spots in wake of its own light. It's annoying, but I don't feel up to moving around much. I can hear the banging and clacking of dishes. I know because of this that Haymitch is still here and I don't really feel like having him bother me until he absolutely feels the need to make me get up and eat followed by showering.

The water stops running, but he still doesn't bother me, instead his sits back down making me roll back into him. His hand gently touches my face as he sighs. It's not his usual sarcastic asshole sigh either, this sigh is different…

It seems as though everything is different with you, Haymitch…

I crack my eyes open catching Haymitch off guard. His hand yanks back and I catch a odd face from him. I can't place it though it feels like I've seen it before. My memories are fuzzy now, but only because I've let myself go this far. I decide I should play dumb.

"What're you doin' 'ere?" I manage, though anything more than that would hurt too much. I hardly ever use my voice anymore. I see no point.

He swallows and pushes at his stringy, greasy dirty blonde hair. He's forming his reason in his mind right now. He thinks I don't know and that's why I bothered to ask him, so he's scrambling to figure something out. In the end he just sighs and shrugs. It's too late for me to eat and shower, he knows that, we both do and for some reason I sit up and just hug him.

He stiffens and I know he was expecting that response, hell, neither was I, but it just happened, like it was the natural option. He relaxes and turns to hug me back. And we just sit there sharing warmth, air, and an embrace. It feels like the most natural thing I've done in a while, but I know Haymitch questions it.

"Sweetheart, what's gotten into you…?" He questioned softly. I just shrugged against him.

He sighed softly and attempted to pull away, but I found myself clinging to him whispering a broken no. I could tell he didn't know what to do with himself and I didn't really blame him. Over a half of a year little to no contact or effort on my part wanting something like this most likely put him in an awkward position, but he sighed and slipped his arms around my fragile body and lifted me into his lap stoking my hair gently. I slumped into him taking comfort in his warmth and I began to cry, softly at first until I was bawling with screams tearing at my throat. As it turns out Haymitch isn't the only one who's changed.

Sometimes I forget that just because I stopped that the world hasn't, it's constantly changing…

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**A/N: So what're you guys thinking of this story? Is it painful to read? Because it's painful for me to write, I personally connect to Haymitch, Katniss, and they're relationship, be it here in a fanfiction where they can freely love or in the book where they never get their happily ever after. These two characters, I just see so much of myself in them and I really relate to them, so I genuinely hope I'm getting this right for once. Leave me a review with your thoughts! It'd really help me out.**


	4. Morning Voices

_Personal Problems_

_Morning Voices_

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_Disclaimer; I don't own the Hunger Games because, well, I'm not that original, but enjoy the fanfiction._

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When light came fluttering into my eyes I knew it was muted and much brighter if I turned away from the warmth that was blocking out the rays of the sun. I sighed softly and without thinking pressed closer to wall of warmth next to me not expecting it to groan or shift, but it did and that's when I realized I really caused a change.

A change that I couldn't fix or go back on, I made a change, a choice, and now I'd have to deal with the consequences, whatever they may be.

Nonetheless I drew in a sharp breath and jerked backward letting the morning sun sear into my eyes jumbling my thoughts more than the smell of alcohol, or the sight of dirty blonde hair sprawled across my pillows, or the light snores that sounded almost familiar and oddly comforting. His eyes cracked open at my sudden movement and I watched as something like worry flooded his features.

"Sweetheart?" He croaked in a gravely morning voice that sent pinpricks of, something I couldn't quite name, down my spine.

My eyes watered upon seeing how red his eyes were and the worry lines forming on his face. Was this all I could do to the people I love? Kill them, be it slowly or quickly, or worry them?

My shoulders shook with quiet sobs and I fell against Haymitch as he wrapped his arms around my still weak body. He was bewildered. I could see it in his eyes. I wasn't one for emotions and neither was he, yet here we were with me bawling my eyes out and him attempting to quiet me.

It was ironic. We all have our own problems and we all try to ignore them. Whether we use the bottle or hide behind excuses, it never solves anything. Our problems remain. We stay broken and silent. Some of us try to solve other's problems, but you can't solve anyone's other than your own. It doesn't work that way. That's why it's called personal problems. But we always want someone else to prove us wrong in our thinking, to come along and solve our problems, lessen our pain and renew our hope, but what do you do when you're both broken? When you're both lost and in need of someone else? Can we really deal with all of these problems under one roof? Can we face each other's demons and be strong for one another…?

I opened up my eyes and looked into his. I still didn't understand that gleam, but I knew it was important and that the day it disappeared was a day I would dread. I would become a thing of the past and for some reason that scared me. It caused my stomach to flop and the room to spin. Or maybe that was just from the exertion it took to sit up on my own. It always had taken awhile for the reality of things to catch up to me.

"Sweetheart…" He whispered holding my chin between his fingers as he searched my eyes. They were watery and pained, but seemed to hold whatever it was he was looking for. A small smile slipped onto his lips.

"Katniss… You're trying again." He said breathlessly something vaguely happy and relieved in his baritone. I just let out a whimper and decided to try out my voice.

"Can we… jus' lay 'ere?" I asked brokenly with my underused and scratchy voice. He nodded laying me down, but getting up causing an awkward sinking feeling to arise in my chest.

I watched him closely only to find he was shutting the curtains and grabbing another slightly thicker blanket before climbing back into the bed. He slightly rearranged the setup of my bed before pulling the covers over us. I drew closer to him and with my frail body next to his hearty one I could tell just how close I was to succeeding in my latest quest. I fell asleep with the thought of it in my head and I couldn't help feeling a little happy that I hadn't…


	5. Flustered Feelings

_Personal Problems_

_Flustered Feelings_

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_Disclaimer; I, of course, do not under any circumstances own, nor make any profit, from the Hunger Games trilogy. I do this purely for my own sick enjoyment. And of course for LankySundown, my idol in this department!_

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When my eyes cracked open again, it was dark out and the moon had risen high into the milky midnight sky. I shifted my body groaning in protest of the simple actions. I knew he wasn't there. I shouldn't have even expected him to be there, but yet I'd hoped and been let down.

I swallowed thickly. Some sort of off feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I struggled for a word to describe this feeling. I know I've felt it before, but it was long ago, before I'd hardened myself for our world, our sick and twisted reality. I slipped my eyes closed a thought, thought really hard, because this emotion, it was eating at me and I could barely stand it.

And that's when it hit me, _disappointment_, I was disappointed. Completely and honestly devastated that our impromptu promise had gone so awry. My cheeks puffed with a harsh exhale. I pushed a hand through the beginnings of my hair before hissing with disapproval. I promptly pulled my hand from my hair frowning with disdain.

"_Unacceptable!_" I hissed to myself forcing my frail frame from the warm sheets.

How had he even touched such a greasy and _disgusting_ thing in the first place? How had he even managed to rake his fingers through such a thing? Or massage my oily scalp? It was all just so disgusting! I don't see how he managed, but I suppose when you're faced with a challenge such as myself you do your best, even if it means raking your fingers through weeks of oil and dirtied hair. I shrugged out of my clothing and turned to the shower.

It looked horrible to be honest. Like no one had ever really used it, but when they did they were fucking disgusting. I suppose that's the truth though. I wouldn't know for sure because I tend to avoid mirrors. Not a very pretty reflection…

I shrugged the thought off as I stepped into the spray of water. It was a lot hotter than the ones I was generally forced into, but that was sort of the point. The water made me feel like I was melting off all of the dirt and stench that surrounded me.

A renewal process of some sort. Nevertheless I was enjoying it, just leaning against the cool tile with the warm water spewing all over me, a strange tingling overtaking my senses, it was all so oddly relaxing. I even let my eyes slip closed, something I hardly ever did, at least by choice anyway. Closing your eyes meant weakness, and that wasn't acceptable, not for the perpetual Hunger Games that was my life.

That didn't last for long though, not with the frantic knocking, my eyes flew open. My body went ridged and my breathing came in sharp bursts. My heart fluttered in my chest rapidly attempting to break through my frail ribs. I swallowed thickly fright getting the better of me as the knocking slowed a bit. It was hard to hear with the water and my pulse beating in my ears.

"Katniss? Katniss, are you okay? _Sweetheart_?" He pleaded through the door hoping to reach past the thudding in my ears. I vaguely caught it.

"H-Haymitch?" I called loudly my voice catching harshly as I flicked off the water to hear him better.

"Can I come in?" He asked his voice almost wary. I swallowed, this wasn't weird, and it wasn't different…

"Yeah." I called just loud enough still leaning against the tile. My eyes were lidded and I was suddenly very aware of the sticky humidness of the room as the cool air rushed in behind Haymitch.

He swallowed. He looked uncertain, of what though I wasn't sure. I smiled weakly at him and something sparkled in his dark and stormy gray eyes. He pushed a hand through hair and sighed softly, his shoulders and posture relaxing visibly. He pulled the door back and grabbed a fluffy white towel. He walked over and held his hand out waiting patiently for me to grasp it. I drew in a breath and took his hand allowing him to help me up. He wrung out my hair gently before wrapping the towel around my emaciated body. His lips pressed to my forehead and I found myself being comforted by the action.

"Where were you this m-morning?" I asked my voice breaking slightly as he pulled away and looked me in the eyes.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, Katniss. I really wanted to be, but I had to lock up my house." I blinked confused as he helped me out of the tub. He noticed and smiled before elaborating more.

"I figured I should stay here with you in one of the guest bedrooms, if you're okay with that?" He asked looking me in the eyes as he began drying me off gently.

I frowned. Was I okay with that? Haymitch practically moving in? Into my house no less… I'd see him all the time. But that wasn't the bad part, no, the bad part was he felt like I needed so much help he had to be there all the time. I shook my head.

"Why?" He locked eyes with me.

"Because, Katniss, you need help and I want to be there for you…" He mumbled something under his breath, but I ignored it instead and thought on his sentence a little.

He wanted to be there. Meaning he didn't just feel a form of obligation, he actually cared enough to stay… Or so it appeared. Did he care? My frown deepened. When had things changed so much? I sighed and nodded giving in. I would be better off with him here to help me recover. He smiled up at me and promised to return. I nodded and perched on the edge of the tub.

I didn't care much to leave this room without being dressed and I'd failed to bring clothes, so of course that's what he was going to get, or at least I hoped so. He didn't seem as cruel as he used to be, like he would play with me in a weak state.

I shivered when the door opened again and Haymitch smiled shutting the door behind him presenting a robe. I frowned slightly.

"All of your clothing is dirty so I picked one of my robes. It's a new one. I figured you wouldn't want to wear any of my ratty shit." He said with a shrug holding it out to me.

I took it quickly and pulled it around my form thankful for not only the warmth, but the protection it provided to my body. I'm not sure what changed, but suddenly I'm not as comfortable with Haymitch seeing me so… _bare_. He held out his hand.

"Breakfast?" I was about to decline, but then I realized that I should say yes because I'm trying again and that means eating. I nodded shifting my eyes to the ground.

He squeezed my hand before taking the lead. I swallowed and pushed down the fear quelling into my chest. Sometimes I have to let other people take the lead. Sometimes I have to follow without questioning, and while I'm not very good at either of these things, the feel of his hand in mine and the thought of him sticking around, it made it a little less frightening. It made everything I was going to go through a little more worth it because there's a possibility that he might stick around if he likes me enough that is…


	6. Fighting Thoughts

_Personal Problems_

_Fighting Thoughts_

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**A/N: Your turn LankySundown! I posted~ It is a chapter for a chapter, right? Hope you like it!**

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_Disclaimer; I, of course, do not under any circumstances own, nor make any profit, from the Hunger Games trilogy. I do this purely for my own sick enjoyment. And of course for LankySundown my idol in this department._

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Haymitch didn't make me much of anything for breakfast, just some soupy porridge, and it's a good thing because I didn't even manage to keep it down. The only thing I succeed in doing was getting puke all over my robe and in my damp hair. Haymitch stifled a laugh and I glared weakly at him in protest.

"Why're y-you laughing?" I hissed with my scratchy, sore voice. He shook his head.

"It's just, if it were really that bad, Sweetheart, you could have said something." A small frown took on my face.

He was laughing and joking while I was covered in my own puke? I sighed feeling drained from the effort of eating and heaving and even dragging myself out of bed to take that half-assed shower. He frowned and grabbed a semi-clean looking towel. He gently wiped my chin off and searched my eyes.

"You're tired." He stated setting the towel down and rocking back on his heels. I just nodded mutely the stench of my own puke permeating every breath I had the absolute _pleasure_ of taking.

"How about a bath and then we get you in bed?" He asked gently. I tilted my head slightly.

"Choice?" I asked hoping the one word would be sufficient enough for him to get my point. He nodded.

"Of course I'm giving you a choice. Before you made your choice and I was making my own. But now that you're trying I'm giving you the power to make your own decisions. I'm not going to go against them." He said softly his eyes shining again. I nodded.

"Okay." The left corner of his mouth raised slightly.

"Then let's get to it, Sweetheart." He said mischievously before scooping me up in his arms, clearly ignoring the puke coating the borrowed robe, and sweeping me back into the bathroom.

He gently sat me on the closed toilet and flicked on the water. He adjusted it and promised to be right back with something I could sleep in. I just nodded mutely again actually a bit happy to bathe myself clean of all the dirt and grime that still clung to my body despite the previous burning hot shower I'd taken.

The door clicked open and Haymitch smiled at me. I waved slightly and glanced at the clothing clutched in his hand. He handed them to me for inspection. It was a pair of cotton boxers and large t-shirt with the top slashed off. I assume this is to make it more comfortable than clinging around the top of your neck. I just shrug and toss them weakly onto the cleared countertop hoping they don't get too dirty from the surface.

Haymitch turned back to me and knelt gently to untie the sash to the robe. I tensed slightly when his fingers brushed the knot. He looked up at me in question, but I averted my eyes and he sighed deciding to continue on. He brushed the robe from my shoulders gently and rose. He held out his hand and helped me into the steamy water. I sighed softly sinking down till my nose brushed the water and made small ripples every time I exhaled.

It was roughly five minutes until Haymitch asked me to dunk my head. I complied slowly shuddering as the warm water incased my hair and face. When I came up, Haymitch already had his hands ready with shampoo, though I knew right away that wouldn't be enough I let him do as he pleased. I needed to relax a little anyway and now would be the perfect time, especially seeing as his hands were working through my hair.

I began to hum softly as he did this in an attempt to keep my thoughts at bay. I didn't want to think. I wanted to relax and it wouldn't happen in the slightest with troubling thoughts running rampant in my mind. At some point my eyes had slipped closed, but I found myself comforted by this. This way I didn't have to worry if he was looking at me like I was disgusting or if he was judging me. This way it was like I was with Octavius, Flavius, and Venia. This way I could handle it. I drew in a shuttering breath and Haymitch stopped.

"Katniss, are you alright?" He asked gently. I nodded mutely again and he sighed, but continued on without questioning me.

He tapped my shoulder gently when it was time to dunk again. I complied gingerly. I was a little sore. I don't exactly get why though. I haven't done much today at all. Functioning couldn't hurt this bad, could it?

I sighed absently wiping a bead of water off my forehead accidentally catching Haymitch's hand in my own. My eyes popped open and I immediately jerked my hand back glaring down at the water. Haymitch chuckled slightly, but didn't say what I knew he was thinking, instead he opted to run conditioner through my hair and gently twist it up before clipping it up. I looked up at him in question. He smiled.

"Your hair could use some conditioning. I'm going to move on and we'll come back to your hair." He looked around and frowned.

He rose silently looking frustrated and wiped his hands off on his pants. His eyes searched the room and he sighed. He pushed a hand through his hair and laughed a little nervously. I cocked my head looking at him confused.

"You don't have any clean washcloths." He said softly and my eyes widened.

"Do you mind if I use my hands?" He asked carefully. I frowned slightly and glared down at the water silently cursing my neglect towards laundry.

"I won't touch you anywhere you don't want me to, Katniss." He said softly, his voice loud near my ear. He had knelt down by the tub again. I swallowed and nodded mutely. It couldn't be that bad…

He grabbed the soap and poured a large dollop into his hand. He squished them together and rubbed a little, though I don't quite know why. It would've been more effective on my body rather than his own, but I was grateful for the small stall.

I still flinched when he touched me, but I was able to relax and let him wash me. Though he barely brushed past the tops of my thighs and around my fifth rib. He took the time to work the tension out of my back, neck, and shoulders. It hurt, but tingled and I wasn't quite sure how to feel about it. He smiled at me as he pulled the clip from my hair.

"Lay back? I'll wash the conditioner from your hair so it doesn't get greasy." He said in that same soft tone that I really wasn't used to, but wanted to be.

I gently descended backwards till the top of my head was submerged. I jumped slightly when his fingers began working their way into my hair, but quickly found that I liked this feeling. It was soft and water laden, kind of affectionate, as close as you could get when you're me anyway.

He helped guide me up and I was grateful because this bath was already weighing on me more than it should. Bathing shouldn't tire me out, yet it does. Again I realize how close I actually am to dying, but Haymitch is right, there's a difference; I'm fighting again.

For a moment, I close my eyes as he towels me off gazing at me in concern as I sway side to side, and I just think about what I was doing to myself. I keep thinking as he helps me dress and then gets me into bed opting to stay with me until I drift off to sleep. And I can't help thinking that maybe it wasn't worth it.


End file.
